please don't try so hard to say goodbye
by pondlilyrue
Summary: i don't mind spending everyday.. out on your corner in the pouring rain.. peeta/katniss


**A/N: Hey everyone, pondlilyrue here! This is my new story based off the amazing song "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5. It is a bit more mature from my previous stories but it is *not* a lemon. By the way, it is in Peeta's POV. It was kind of odd writing as a guy but I am kinda similar to him personality-wise so it wasn't too bad. Reviews do make me happy but I will not beg you for them. Hahahahahahaha enjoy! By the way: Josh Hutcherson is hot. Just sayin.**

_It's not always rainbows and butterflies_

_It's compromise_

_It's what moves us along_

_My heart's always full_

_And my door's always open_

_You can come anytime you want_

**Please Don't Try So Hard To Say Goodbye**

"Wait, are you completely sure that is correct?" I incredulously ask my drunken mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. He rolls his Seam grey eyes at me, completely nonplussed about my confused state. He gnaws on another piece of raisin bread and chews with his mouth open. The sound bothers me, but I don't say anything. I am waiting for him to continue.

"Sweetheart's not doing well. And, yes, I am absolutely sure that was what was happening." The words hit me like a knife. I feel like I could double over in the pain washing through my body. I attempt to swallow my own saliva but it feels like glue in my throat. My eyes twitch and I bite down on my chapped lips, trying to comprehend what I just heard in a rational matter. Katniss Everdeen, the strongest person I know _and _the love of my life, attempted to commit suicide? It just couldn't happen. It didn't seem like her. But, she was always full of surprises. I stare down at the butter knife in my own hands and ponder over slitting my own wrists. I mean, I have caused her enough grief. I have even tried to kill her myself. With all those shiny memories and false beliefs, I had wanted to take the life of the woman I love. Weird.

"Haymitch," I murmur, "She will be okay." It is not a question but a statement. When Haymitch raises his thick eyebrows, I nod my head in confirmation. As long as I am around, the broken Mockingjay will find her wings once again. As long as I inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dyoxide, she will smile and be loved. She will be loved. I glance over to the house next door (to Haymitch's) and am greeted with closed shutters. In a moment of weakness, tears prickle my vision but I quickly blink them back. Haymitch caught me though.

"It'll be okay, Loverboy," He reasons. "I mean, you have always been the one who could reach her when no one else could." I am touched by his words. In my muddled mind, I can think of several occasions when I made her smile when her own world was crashing down. One, just before the Quarter Quell, the day on the training center roof. Even though the next day we were being sent to our certain deaths, we still had the time of our lives just being with each other, watching the sunset. Sunset, I think.

"_Let's start with something more basic. Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine.. but I don't know what your favorite color is."_

A smile creeps onto her pink lips. "Green, what's yours?"

"Orange," I say with dignity. It had always been my favorite color because it wasn't just one pigment. There were many shades involved, creating a picture of peace and beauty. If only I had my colored pencils right now..

_"Orange? Like Effie's hair?" She asks incredulously. I laugh._

_"A bit more muted," I tell her. "More like.. sunset."  
_

"Loverboy? You still here?" Haymitch's gruff voice jolts me back to reality. I shake my head quickly, attempting to clear my head. I swallow and stare down at my shoes. Leather. Just like Katniss' hunting boots. Black. Just like her ebony braid that swings behind her as she walks. Worn. Just like the battle scars decorating her thin body. Beautiful. Just like Katniss.

"Yes," I barely whisper. He nods his head and takes a swig of some unknown white sparkling drink that I do not have any taste for. I take that as my cue to leave. "Nice seeing you, Haymitch," I say half-heartedly as I gather my jacket and head out into the November air. I could imagine Katniss' voice as she talks to Haymitch, the heavy sarcasm, the wit. Man, I miss her so much. I look behind me and think of a way to get her to talk to me. I don't think she'll come running back into my arms after all we've been through.

Scratch that. After all _I've _put her through.

I find myself staring at her elaborate house in the Victor's Village. Knowing her, she would hate it. Not only do the pristine walls and hard-wood floors probably remind her of the Capitol and all the troubles they caused her, the memories of Prim would float around in the air. I rest my palm on the front door and feel the cold surface greet my hand. Should I open it? What harm would it do? She could be completely harsh to me and tell me she never wants to see me again. How could I blame her, though? After trying to kill her? After yelling at her and calling her a mutt?

Summoning up my bravery, I take a deep breath and knock on the door. I twiddle my thumbs, tap my foot and try to pass the agonizing moments before I can see her face again. _If _I see her face again. Minutes pass and I find myself still waiting at the doorstep. The chilly air of winter whooshes past me and I take a deep gulp of it. Wet marks find their way to my hands, droplets descending into my ashy blonde hair. Great, it's raining.

_I don't mind spending every day_

_Out on your corner in the pouring rain_

_Look for the girl with the broken smile_

_Ask her if she wants to stay awhile  
And she will be loved_

Shivering, I wrap my raven jacket closer to my body. I run a trembling hand through my wavy hair again but still there is no answer. Well, it leaves only one option. Peeta, you're going to have to go in head-first. I grip the door handle and twist it. Locked. Strange. Katniss _never _locks her door. I knew that from firsthand experience when we would hold each other when we slept. The thought makes a small smile play on my lips.

I am just about to throw my hands up in the air in surrender when I know there is one more slightly plausible action. The window. In no way am I a tree-climber like Katniss nor do I have light hunter's feet. Being a baker, I am big and clumsy. Immediately, I feel like an idiot who is awkwardly standing when rain is pouring in buckets and comtemplating how to jump into Katniss' window. I glance nervoulsy behind my shoulder and see a big old willow tree. This could work. I bite my bottom lip, chewing nervously at the plush, and interlock my fingers with the bottom branch. To be perfectly honest, I am scared for my life. What if I fall, break my neck, die, and no one will be there to help Katniss? That would be bad. I hoist myself upwards, not bothering to worry, and ascend up the tree. With each climb, the branches grow slimmer and slimmer until I am practically shimmying up the willow. I feel kind of like a ninja doing that. Eventually, I see eye-to-eye with the closed shutters of Katniss' window. I clench my hand into a fist and knock on it. No response. Do it again. No response. Again. No response. I bang on it then, frustrated, and am greeted with shuffling. Eventually, the shutter had been opened and I see Katniss. I expected hollow cheeks, matted hair and purple bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep. But, I am pleasantly surprised. Her long raven hair fell in waves down her back, her eyes did look red-rimmed but she did not look unhealthy. How did this happen? Didn't she try to...?

"Hey," I whisper nervously, trying to ease the tension. 'Cause I couldn't be all like _hey, I just tried to break into your house and talk to you so you won't try to commit suicide. _That would be tactful. Heavy sarcasm.

"Hey," She glances nervously behind herself and murmurs, "Did you just get in through the window..?" To be honest, I expect a scowl like she usually has on, but her eyes are hopeful.

"Yes," I grin wryly at her and she smiles back, a small pretty grin appearing on her luscious lips. It just registered to me how badly I want to kiss her. She looks so... young. All throughout the war, you thought of her as the symbol of the rebellion, the Mockingjay, a victor, fighter but, deep down, she was an eighteen year-old girl who had been through a hell of a lot.

"Thanks," she whispers. I look at her curiously and she goes on. "I was getting kind of.. lonely. I mean, when you are all alone all day and doing nothing, you have only memories to keep you company. It's scary when you have too much time to think," she concludes. I am nodding furiously, agreeing to every single thing she says. When I don't bake, I just sit there and contemplate everything I have done in my eighteen years on this earth. All the heinous things – accidentally killing Foxface, slitting the girl from Eight's throat (even though it was what you dub a 'mercy kill'), being cold to Katniss when we went back to Twelve, strangling her even though I was hijacked – and then all the good: Throwing the bread, protecting Katniss, kissing Katniss, befriending Prim, steering the Careers away from Katniss, standing up to my mother. Too much time to think definitely. "You might think I'm crazy," she adds quickly; I shake my head at her.

"No, it makes perfect sense."

A silence spreads between us as we just stand there, staring at each other. I must look a riot with my wet hair, damp clothes and soaked black jacket with a haunted look in my eyes. I am still freaking out over what Katniss tried to do. If Haymitch was to trust... I needed to know. I chew on my lip and swallow. She seems to get what I was thinking. It's weird how we can sometimes pick up on things about each other. I know when she is lying, what she is thinking. Perhaps we are what you call soulmates.

"Haymitch was right," Katniss barely whispers. I stare at her with wide eyes. I probably surprise her by looking angry. Rage is building up through me and I yell at her. Even though I don't want to.

"How could you do that, Katniss? How could you try to take your precious life? You had worked so hard for a good life for everyone! How could you?" I glare at her and I expect her to shrink her away, she looks so fragile. But, the Girl on Fire is back. A scowl forms on her beautiful lips and she is not a thin eighteen year old girl anymore, she is a blazing inferno, an open flame. A hazard.

"Everyone I love is _dead_! All the reasons I thought are _gone_! Why should I live? No, more importantly, who should I live for?" She takes a deep breath, her face red in fury. I am just as angry. I just glare at her with my blue eyes and suddenly something clicks in her brain and she looks at me, her whole appearance softening. "Except for you. But you don't want me anymore."

It wasn't a question.

It was a statement.

How could she think that? That was the opposite from the truth! Would someone who didn't love her wait out in the pouring rain for her to open the door? Would someone who didn't love here be ready to _kill_, to _die _for her? My mouth opens in shock, I close it. I try to calm myself from acting like a demented banshee and respond.

"Katniss," I whisper softly, the fight gone out of me. "How could you think that? I waited an hour in the pouring rain for you. I would wait more. I would wait a lifetime for you. I still lo- I still care about you. I thought we were done with all the evasions now."

"But you haven't talked to me!" She shrieks. "I have been waiting for you! I thought you were out of your mind, insane! Your shutters have been closed too," she points out. I shrink away guiltily. Okay, it was true. "I tried to talk to Haymitch about you but he always shook his head and left. I didn't know what to think. So I -" She was about to explain but she couldn't.

Her mouth was occupied doing something else.

I don't know what happened. One minute we were disagreeing, then we were full on making out in Katniss' bedroom. I don't know who started it. But, it didn't matter, we were glued together. My hand was resting on the small of her back, her arms were slung around my neck, messing with my downy hair. I licked her lips, my tongue entering her mouth, deepening the kiss. She had been my first kiss, and I was planning on her being my last.

"I.. will...always.. come.. back... for.. you," I manage purring through the heavy kisses. Some of them were wet and clumsy, for we were so frantic, holding onto each other for dear life.

"It...was..always..you.." She tells me earnestly before I shift my head and my mouth covers hers again.

"Good.. to.. know... Now.. let's...stop...talking..and..use...our...mouths...for...something...else.." She grins wryly at me and we start again.

And again.

And again.

We find each other on the bed, hours later, hot and sweaty, swathed in duvets and thin sheets. I stare at this beautiful girl right in front of me, my Mockingjay, my Girl on Fire, my Girl with the Dandelion. I think she finally feels the same way, but, being the worry wart I am, I have to make sure.

"Katniss?" I whisper. She turns around to look at me, raven hair fanned out over the pillow and looks at me doe-eyed.

"Yes?"

"I, um, have to ask you something," I murmur. She nods, indicating for me to go on. "You love me. Real or not real?"

Katniss smiles and replies, "Real." My heart swells, my spirits are sky-high and I couldn't stop the goofy grin from spreading across my face. She laughs at my expression and purrs, "Didn't you know?"

"Sort of."

"You should know," she giggles.

I had waited a lifetime for this girl to love me. It only took competing in the Hunger Games, being forced to be star-crossed lovers, a lot of jealousy, being hijacked by the Capitol and losing many people we love.

And, honestly? I'd do it all over again.


End file.
